


It's Fertilizer

by gracie137



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky Barnes loves his garden, Fluff, Grumpy Bucky Barnes, Humor, M/M, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Sam Wilson Vs. Bucky's Knitting, Sam Wilson Vs. The Smell of fertilizer, Sam Wilson is a Gift, and Steve loves Bucky, get an air freshener steve, the rest of the films can fuck off
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 16:09:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17227172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gracie137/pseuds/gracie137
Summary: “It’s fertilizer,” Steve says, far too primly for someone whose house smells like shit.“That’s just a fancy word for shit.”“No, it’s the correct word for plant nutrients.”It’s becoming more and more evident that Steve is not going to admit that his house does in fact smell like shit, and he’s got that stubborn set to his jaw that tells Samexactlywho is behind the cause of the smell.Barnes.





	It's Fertilizer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GingerTodgers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GingerTodgers/gifts).



> i wish i had an explanation for this fic but i don't, really i just wanted to make you smile G and then some feels snuck in there too.
> 
> Thankyou to obsessivereader for the speedy beta and all remaining mistakes are mine 
> 
> So without further ado, enjoy !!!

“Your house smells like shit.”

“Sam!” Steve glares at Sam with his best  _ Captain America Is Disappointed In You  _ look.

“It does!” 

Steve is far too aware of the disappointment his eyes can carry and it takes a cold-hearted son of a bitch to be immune to it. Luckily, Sam’s had practice mainly because he’s seen Steve use it when Sam’s reaching for the last doughnut. 

“It’s fertilizer,” Steve says, far too primly for someone whose house smells like shit.

“That’s just a fancy word for shit.”

“No, it’s the correct word for plant nutrients.”

It’s becoming more and more evident that Steve is not going to admit that his house does in fact smell like shit, and he’s got that stubborn set to his jaw that tells Sam  _ exactly  _ who is behind the cause of the smell.  _ Barnes _ .

“I parked the car,” Natasha says, appearing by Sam’s side and not looking at all bothered by the smell. “And I bought the coffee grounds you asked for.”

Steve’s face lights up as he grabs the bag from Natasha, clutching it to his chest as if it’s the best thing he’s seen all week. “Thanks! Buck’ll be thrilled.” Honestly, at best Barnes will probably grunt and not scowl at them so much, but Sam’s slowly starting to speak Barnes and no scowling means he’s elated.

“Why do you need old coffee grounds?” Sam asks, reaching to inspect the bag. Steve’s eyes bulge and he holds it closer. Sam lowers his hand slowly to show Steve he’s not a threat to Barnes’s grimy old beans. Steve doesn’t stop cradling the bag.

“Fertilizer,” Natasha says.

“Of course.” Sam doesn’t even know why he bothers. “Is it to cover the smell of the shit?”

Steve glares at him again.

“Buck! Nat and Sam are here.”

Steve seems utterly unperturbed by Barnes’s lack of response, leading them through to the kitchen and getting started on making the coffee. Sam’s not offended, as long as Barnes’s greetings no longer involve Sam having to hit the floor to avoid having a knife hit his head then he’s fine.

It’s not until they’re halfway through their coffees that Barnes blesses them with his presence, interrupting Natasha’s retelling of Tony and Clint’s latest fire hazard adventures. Secretly Sam thinks Barnes’s interruption is probably a good thing as they’d been about to find out just how flammable salt was.

“Есть твой кофе,” Natasha says.

Barnes replies with some more Russian that Sam doesn’t understand, eyes narrowed as he inspects the bag on the counter. It’s left a dark smudge on the counter but Sam doubts either Steve or Barnes will mind seeing as their general house smells like shit and Barnes looks… to put it politely, like he’s just returned from rolling around in the dirt.

There are some other choice ways Sam could describe Barnes’s appearance but he doesn’t fancy being on the receiving end of either Natasha or Steve’s glares. Barnes, he’s pretty sure, wouldn’t actually care, but that’s Barnes.

His long hair is in what appears to be an attempt at two french plaits and Sam has a horrible feeling about what he’ll find if he searches Steve’s YouTube history. He’s wearing a ratty red bandana and a top that says  _ Plant One On Me  _ and Sam doesn’t even want to  _ know  _ who got him that. Or how often Steve makes the most of it. Strange attire aside, the most staggering thing about Barnes is the fact that he is near enough covered head to toe in dirt. Though if the smell of the house is anything to go by it also could be shit. Sorry,  _ fertilizer _ .

Yet another reason for Sam to keep his distance. Tragic.

“What do you need the coffee for?” Sam asks.

Barnes frowns at him. “Natalia already told you.”

So much for making polite conversation. Sam really hates hanging out with enhanced beings sometimes.

“You want to show them your plants?” Steve prompts, grinning like a proud mother. The force of Steve’s smile could possibly power the planet when they run out of fossil fuels. Sam makes a note to mention it to Stark.

Barnes looks like he’d like nothing more than them both to fuck off actually, but he just clutches his coffee grounds to his chest and jerks his head towards the door before leaving. It’s not the most welcoming invitation Sam’s ever received but it’s but it’s pretty goddamn warm by Barnes’s standards.

Natasha follows Barnes happily and Sam takes the hint as Steve’s smile hits manic when Sam doesn’t move fast enough.  _ Follow after Barnes and coo appreciatively at his plants _ . Sam can follow an order.

The plants are only the latest in Barnes’s hobbies ( _ read also: obsessions _ ). Sam supports it, it's good for Barnes to find peaceful ways to focus his mind and keep himself grounded. Meditation had been a disaster but knitting had gone down far too well, Barnes had turned out to be an extremely keen knitter and what he’d lacked in talent he’d made up for in enthusiasm. 

Sam had ascended to the high heavens at some of the knitted outfits Steve had worn to make Barnes happy. Although, Sam’s pretty sure Barnes had known  _ exactly  _ how bad he was at knitting and  _ exactly  _ how stupid Steve had looked. A theory that Sam had solidified when Barnes had begun knitting the rest of the Avengers outfits as a  _ bonding  _ present. Steve had forced Sam to wear the turkey hat Barnes had made him and Sam refused to believe that Barnes had just  _ forgotten  _ what a Falcon looked like. He’d seen a far too knowing gleam in Barnes’s eyes… Sam was onto him.

Yoga with Natasha had only been traumatic in that Sam had had to see  _ far  _ too much of Barnes in the yoga pants he’d fallen in love with, though Steve had been both scandalised and thrilled.

So, gardening seems like a good project for Barnes. Sam imagines it's nice for him to be creating and nurturing life instead of taking it away. Shame it leaves the entire house smelling of shit, but it’s not Sam’s house so he’s not too bothered. Though he will remember to invite Steve round his next time…

Barnes’s gardening room is a glass room at the end of the house that, despite the smell and general state of Barnes, is beautiful in its own way. The floor is covered in dirt and boot prints, and there are vines growing up the walls and flowers of every colour Sam’s ever seen and a few he possibly hadn’t. Cracked brown clay pots are under the table and ones painted in Steve’s signature doodles are on top, smiling suns and bright seas and caricatures of Barnes gardening.

Sam can understand why Barnes made this his happy place.

“Think how many ways you could kill someone with this,” Natasha says, picking up a trowel.

Sam and Steve shoot Natasha matching looks of incredulity about bringing murder into Barnes’s safe space but Barnes just picks up a fork.

“You could get creative with this too.”

Sam lets Steve lead him over toward the small table in the corner with its ugly floral print chairs, and away from the two murderous ex-assassins.

Though said murderous ex-assassins certainly look a lot less murderous when not contemplating the different ways to kill people with gardening equipment and just applying coffee grounds to plants. Barnes’s given Natasha a pink scrunchie to tie her hair back because it's serious business they’re getting up to as he demonstrates the correct way to dig into the pots and apply the grounds, murmuring and stroking each plant as they go.

“Wilson,” Barnes grunts, shocking Sam out of his thoughts.

“Yeah?”

Barnes shakes the bag at him and gestures for him to come join him.

“You want me to help?”

“If you’re in here you have to be useful.”

“Steve’s not being useful!” Sam feels seven again, especially when Barnes glares at him.

“Steve tell him why you’re in the corner.”

“‘Cause I’m a clumsy useless oaf who couldn’t correctly pot a plant if the plant itself talked me through it,” Steve says, sounding far too gleeful about the insult.

Barnes nods in agreement.

“Okay.” Sam stands slowly and goes over to help Barnes finish up the fertilizer.

Later when they’re finished and Steve’s brought them all another cup of coffee, Sam sits down and watches the careful way Barnes prunes one of the vines on the wall.

Steve catches his eye and grins. “Still smell like shit?”

“It’s fertilizer,” Sam says with the same prim voice Steve had used earlier.

Steve grins goofily and goes back to watching Barnes. “Yeah, yeah it is.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> First person to show me what Sam would look like in a badly knitted turkey hat wins my love forever, and with that I return to my regularly scheduled life of WIP's and academic deadlines...
> 
> Leaving kudos and comments makes you the best thing since sliced bread
> 
> I'm on tumblr [@gracie137blogs](http://gracie137blogs.tumblr.com)


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